


Honestly Sincere

by campsearchlight



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 3
Genre: M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Tom likes to tinker - no relation to tinker tom lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campsearchlight/pseuds/campsearchlight
Summary: Dr. Tom Bailey isn’t completely in love with his childhood bully.Dr. Tom Bailey is also a bad liar.





	1. Chapter 1

Butch tapped the underside of his pack of cigarettes until one slid out far enough to easily grasp. “The whole thing seems kinda...” He sighed heavily and placed the cigarette between his lips. “What’s the word I’m lookin’ for?”

Tom tried desperately to keep his focus on the task at hand—instead of on Butch’s mouth. “Stupid? Pointless? I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

“Well, yeah.” Butch flipped open his lighter and finally lit the cigarette, taking gentle pulls from it. “Makes you wonder why we can’t all just, y’know, work together, instead of killin’ each other.”

Tom scoffed, amused. “That’s what you would call a utopia. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem we’re that lucky.”

“You always been a pessimist, Bailey?”

“You’ve only known me your entire life, DeLoria,” Tom said, giving the screwdriver a short, final twist. He sat back, swiping his fingers over the dusty screen of the Pip-Boy as it booted up. Vault Boy winked and finger-gunned. 

Butch took a long drag from his cigarette. On the exhale, smoke pouring out of his mouth, he said, “I don’t think I have.”

Tom looked up suddenly to find that Butch was looking right back at him. “What makes you say that?”

Butch shrugged. “I never had a nice word to say to you back then. Never gave you a chance to talk to me, either.” He took in another breath of smoke and let it out slowly. “Truth be told: I don’t know much about you besides your name.”

Tom averted his gaze back to the Pip-Boy. The screen still jumped erratically. He tapped the side of it to see if he could knock something into place, but there was no change. With a resigned sigh, he flipped it back over to open it up again. “I guess I could say the same about you.”

Butch tilted his head back against the wall, the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip. He folded his arms over his stomach. “You’re a smart guy. That, I know. Got us out of a few jams before.”

Tom ducked his head and concentrated on the tangle of wires inside the Pip-Boy casing, unable to process a compliment from Butch. 

“Look at you,” Butch continued, gesturing broadly at Tom. “How do you even know how to fix that thing?”

Tom cleared his throat. “A lot of tinkering.”

“Oh, yeah.” Butch chuckled. “I remember you getting your ass handed to you by the Overseer when you pulled one all apart.”

Half of Tom’s mouth lifted in a reluctant smile. “How else would I know what the inside of it looked like?” 

Butch’s chuckles evolved into laughter. Clutching his stomach, he said, “See? Who else would do something like that besides you? Who else even _could_?”

Tom set aside his tools and looked back at Butch. “What about you, though? You were a barber in Rivet City before you found me. That’s pretty impressive.”

“Not even remotely as impressive as you fixing my Pip-Boy.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Let’s just agree to disagree.” 

“I don’t want to,” Butch laughed, reaching for his Pip-Boy. Tom handed it over, and Butch looked into the open panel. He took the cigarette between his first two fingers again as he leaned forward. “I can tell you right now that cutting hair ain’t even _close_ to this.”

Tom’s smile grew less reluctant. “So, I’m smart. Tell me about my other good qualities.”

Butch shifted close enough to reach out and card his free fingers into Tom’s hair. “Well, you got great hair, Bailey. I’ve wanted to style it for years.” He pushed Tom’s hair back from his forehead before pulling his hand back.

Tom’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes met Butch’s. His smile faded. “Really?”

Butch nodded, a smirk curling his lips. He sat back and tapped the ashes off into the ashtray. “Would you let me sometime?”

“How about now?”

Butch’s eyebrow arched. “And let you sleep on my work of art and mess it all up? Hell, no. I’ll do it in the morning.”

Tom swallowed hard. “We should get some sleep, then.”

“Good idea.” He tamped out his cigarette in the ashtray and tucked the half-burnt stub into the pack. He leaned sideways on his side of the mattress until he was completely horizontal. Lying on his back, he looked up at Tom. “Don’t stay up too late messin’ with that, yeah?”

“Oh, I... I think I’m done with it for tonight.” Tom set the Pip-Boy and his tools on the nightstand before settling in himself. He turned off the light on his own Pip-Boy, and they were left in near-darkness. “‘Night.”

“‘Night, Bailey.”


	2. Chapter 2

Butch placed his hands on Tom’s shoulders and gently pushed him down on the chair, facing the mirror. “I’d like to give you a trim. Get some of this mop outta your face.”

Tom nodded along, not really caring what Butch wanted to do to his hair, because his touch was distracting enough. His hair had grown a little long since his last cut in Vault 101. 

Butch got to work—parting Tom’s hair, trimming each section ever so carefully, the tip of his tongue held between his teeth—and Tom watched him surreptitiously through the mirror. It intrigued him, how Butch knew exactly what he was doing when Tom was so clueless in this regard. But, he supposed Butch felt much the same about Tom’s medical and technological prowess. 

With the cut finished, Butch stood between him and the mirror, forcing Tom to have choose to either stare into Butch’s abdomen or close his eyes. He decided on the latter and was glad he did so; Butch’s expert hands sculpted Tom’s hair into what Tom could only hope was not a pompadour. 

Butch took a step back to observe his handiwork. “Not bad, not bad at all.” He stepped aside, sweeping his hand toward the mirror. 

Tom barely recognized himself. So much for a trim. Butch had sheared away a few inches and moulded what was left up and slightly to the right side. It wasn’t a pompadour, for which Tom was grateful. 

He leaned forward, his hand instinctively reaching to touch the subtle upward curve of his hair. 

“Ah-ah-ah!” Butch smacked Tom’s hand away. “No touching, only looking. What do you think?”

“It looks...” Tom searched for a descriptor that could express how much he liked it. 

“Good? Bad? Don’t leave me hangin’, Bailey.”

“You’re really talented,” Tom said, smiling up at Butch. “Thank you.”

Butch gave a modest shrug. “You gotta repay me somehow, right? Get to work on that Pip-Boy, so we can get back out there.”

Tom nodded and got up, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hold it.” Butch stood in front of him and scrutinized his hair. He reached for the small container of pomade and unscrewed the lid. “You got a few strays.” 

Tom had no choice but to wait, face-to-face with Butch as he made a few adjustments. His attention was inevitably drawn to Butch’s mouth, and he wondered briefly how Butch would react if he kissed him. 

He blinked away the thought as Butch stepped back. 

“There! Perfect.” Butch gestured for Tom to continue on his way back to his workbench. “I do have another condition, though.”

Tom sat down, shaking his head. “Whatever it is, I didn’t agree to it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing crazy, promise,” Butch said, leaning his hip against the wall beside the workbench. “I just thought that since I’ve created such a masterpiece, it would be a crime against humanity if we didn’t show it off a little.”

“I’m listening.”

“All I’m suggesting is we get some dinner tonight, get a drink at the bar, tour the market. Flaunt that”—Butch kissed his fingertips—“_beautiful_ hair for the whole damn city to see.”

Tom tried so hard to keep himself from blushing. To ground himself, he gave a mental tally for how many caps they could spare. “We can do that.”

“Great.” Butch pushed away from the wall. “While you work on that, I’m gonna go get some lunch. Any requests?”

“Oh, uh... noodle cup for me, please. Thank you.”

“Comin’ right up.” Butch left the apartment, closing the door slowly to minimize the obnoxious clunk. 

With Butch gone for the time being, Tom was finally able to focus on the Pip-Boy. He felt a wave of embarrassment that the repair was much simpler than he would have liked to admit. He decided that Butch didn’t have to know that.


End file.
